Kaitō Seikū: The Saint of the Sky
by Little Bookwyrm
Summary: AU He didn't see himself as a thief. He saw himself as a retriever, to right the wrongs against innocents in the Mafia. But he never expected to find himself pulled into a war between the Vongola and the Millifore. Now, how long can he keep his secret safe when there are people who want him for different reasons? Rated T to be safe. No pairings.


**Hey guys, It's me again with a new story. Yes, I know I'm neglecting most of my stories by doing this—a good number of them are being edited and/or rewritten right now—but this story came to my head one day and, dang nabit, it wouldn't leave!**

**I'd like to give a shout out to Rezan Crescent, who wrote the story **_**The Shadow Demon,**_** which is the basis for this story with a few twists of my own design. If you have the time, I suggest to read this story and, if you have a little more, to review the story.**

**I'd also like to give a shout out to Megumi Tachikawa, the author and artist of the manga series **_**Saint Tail**_**, who I feel has also inspired me with this story. If you have the time, check out the anime of this classic and awesome series, you won't regret it.**

**Disclaimer: I really don't get why we do this but here it is: I DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES OWN KATEKYO HITMAN REBORN OR SAINT TAIL! ALL I OWE ARE MY OCS WHICH ARE TO APPEAR EITHER ONCE OR SEVERAL TIMES DURING THE COURSE OF THIS STORY!**

**There I've said it. **

**Anyway on with the story!**

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Chapter One: Kaitō Seikū

_People called him a thief. A thief with no purpose._

"This is the place, right?" Bianca Corvello asked softly. She along with her brother had come to a park nearby their home in Sicily, Italy, where families where enjoying the wonderful sun by picnics, games, or simply sitting around and sharing stories.

Bianca could remember a time when her family did just that, before her father lost his two year battle with cancer. Now, the pair had come with a mission, one that hopefully wouldn't end in disappointment.

"That's what it said on the card," Francesco huffed as he struggled with the large briefcase in his small hands.

While it would seem odd to people unfamiliar with Sicily to see two children—and ones as young as the pair—without an adult supervising and a large briefcase, those who had lived on the island most of their lives knew that it was a common occurrence; for anyone could guess that the children were armed despite their innocent appearance.

"Let's take a break," Francesco said, leading Bianca over to a pair of tree stumps in a vacant part of the park. Two years Bianca's senior, Francesco had a thick head of brown hair and olive green eyes that, like their late father, could be warm one minute and ice-cold the next; many of their father's men said that he had the makings of a great boss as he could manipulate situations to fit his need, even though the boy wasn't aware of it half the time.

"Do you think he'll show?" Bianca asked, tightly hugging her doll to her chest. While she possessed the same color of eyes as her brother, Bianca sported long locks of light blonde hair that were always kept in pigtails with pink ribbons. Many suspected that she'd look like the pair's mother, and many of the men had already sworn to protect her from "evil youths" when she was older; Bianca had yet to understand why they'd want to her protect her when they already did.

"Who knows," Francesco said. "Just remember Bianca: we're here to get Father's ring. Nothing more."

"I know," Bianca said, puffing out her cheeks in irritation at her brother. It only lasted a second or so before her face turned sullen and she buried her face in her dolls head.

The entire mess and reason of the pair being in the park alone had started sometime after their father's death: Someone had managed to sneak away the family ring. The entire family, as well as their allies, had gone up in arms, trying to find the ring and the thief, but much of the effort had come up with dead ends.

Then, a week or so after the discovery, a note had arrived.

No bigger than a business card, the only writing on it being a date, time, location, and the promise to return the ring. Strangely, there was no requested amount for the ring's safe return but knowing how people could think, the pair had secretly gathered all of their allowance and placed it in the briefcase; having daily allowances did have its perks.

Now that they were here, Bianca was having second guesses; shouldn't they have told someone, like their mother or Gion—their father's right-hand man—about what they were planning on doing. Surely an adult would have been a bit reassuring in this situation; Bianca voiced her concerns to her brother.

"If we did," Francesco said in a strong tone, "Mother wouldn't have let us out of our sight. Gion would have just told Mother anyway, but not before assigning us a guarded escort." The boy shook his head. "No, it was better that we came alone."

Bianca knew her brother was right; she had heard several stories of trades gone bad, even those her parents hadn't been aware that she was listening to them. Still, this entire thing was strange.

For one, the person who delivered the message had picked a rather public place and during a time that several families would be out enjoying themselves. Was it to create witnesses in the case that something went wrong on either side? And the fact that the person didn't request any money was strange in itself; didn't people do anything for money? Bianca remembered her father having once said that.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" The pair slightly jumped at the new voices; walking toward them was a trio of sloppily-dressed men. The one who had spoken was in the middle—the obvious leader—with a crudely angled face and a large nose that had taken the brunt of most fights; they all stunk of alcohol. "If it isn't the Corvello chicks. Did your daddy finally kick you two out of the nest? Oh that's right, he bit the dust." The three men chuckled as if it was a joke that only they understood.

Francesco was the first to react. "Philip Doce," he growled with as much anger as he could; he recognized the man. This man had once been in the Family until his father had tossed Philip and his group out for suspicious activities, though Francesco never learned what activities. Acting on brother instinct, he placed himself between his sister and the trio of goons; of all the times to be without a guard, it had to be today. Maybe they _should_ have told someone.

"Now, now, we didn't come looking for a fight," Philip sneered, his eyes momentarily falling on the briefcase behind the young boy.

Francesco's eye narrowed; where they ones who had stolen the ring? He doubted it since from what he had been told, Philip was the type to brag about anything that could boost his standing in those he grouped with. It was part of the reason that he was kicked out; people could only take so much talk.

Besides, if Philip had in fact stolen the ring, the entire Family would have descended upon him the second he had started bragging about it. "We have an important meeting," Francesco said through gritted teeth. "We have no time or patience to deal with you."

Philip scoffed. "That's what I hate about you _Families_," he sneered. "Always thinking you're so high and mighty. You say that you're there to protect people, but all you do is shackling them with your rules."

"Rules are important to any civilization," the Corvello argued. "If there wasn't any, life would be chaos and no one would be safe to do anything."

"Listen to the little smarty," Philip jeered and his goons chuckled. "If you don't want us around, why don't you just give us that briefcase and we'll be on our merry way."

"Absolutely not," Francesco shot back. This would likely be their one and only chance to get their father's ring back and to just give in to these lowlifes would be an insult to the Corvello name. Sure, the Family wasn't as big as the Big Trio, but it was a good size group of people brought together with a single goal.

The leery grin didn't fall from Philip's face. "In that case," was all he said before Francesco felt a force hit him in the chest, sending the boy on to his back where he was pinned down by a large foot. "We'll just take it by force."

"Fratello!" Bianca shouted in panic, moving off the stump to go to her brother, only to be stopped by one of the goons who grabbed her roughly by her arm, her doll falling to the earth. "Let me go!"

"Bianca!" Francesco shouted and grimaced as he took a painful breath in.

"What a pretty name," Philip mused. "I'll bet there's a gent who'll pay for a pretty thing like her, don't you agree boys?" The two men chuckled as Bianca froze in fear.

_No!_ Francesco thought in despair. Had he known this was to happen, he would have told Bianca to stay at home. He was suppose to protect his little sister—he had promised their father—and all he had done was bring her into danger. All he could see was Bianca's terrified face, torn between screaming and crying, and again wished that they hadn't come alone.

"_Oof!_" Francesco was brought out of his depressing thoughts at the sound of the third man, who had gone to grab the briefcase, was sent flying into the second. Both men toppled over into a pile on the earth and Bianca was released, herself landing on the grass.

"What?!" Philip growled and the pressure lifted slightly, allowing Francesco to take in another breath.

"Is terrorizing children the only thing you're good at?" A voice asked with slight disgust.

Tilting his head, Francesco spotted a boy a little older than himself dressed in casual clothes. The first thing to notice was the boy's gravity-defying brown hair—Francesco silently wondered if that was natural or if the boy had spent a long amount of time in the mirror like his mother did each morning—and large brown eyes that were currently burning with hatred to the three men, two of which were still laying in a tangled heap on the earth.

"What to make something of it, you little punk?" Philip snarled, removing his boot from the boy he had been previously crushing and facing the boy. With no one watching, Bianca crawled over to her brother's side; she felt that everything was going to be okay now.

The boy's face didn't change expression. "I came here to meet someone, but seeing you three pick on a pair of defenseless kids makes my blood boil."

Francesco wanted to ask what he meant by 'kids'; the boy couldn't have been that much older than him. Maybe a middle school student; that meant he was at least three years older so he was still a kid basically.

"So you wanna fight, punk?" Philip asked.

"I'd rather not," the boy said. "Why don't you and your friends just go and leave these two alone. That way no one gets hurt."

"Oh, _someone's_ going to get hurt alright," Philip sneered. "And we'll start with you! Get him boys!"

Philip's men, who had been successful in removing themselves from the pile, charged at the boy with fists raised, one of them armed with iron knuckles. Both were large and thick, and clearly weren't the brains of the group, something that they left to Philip.

Francesco wanted to scream out, do something, but before his body even moved, the boy acted. Ducking beneath the first swing, the boy sank his fist into the stomach, earning a wheezing gasp from his victim as said man slumped to the floor. He sidestepped the strike of the second man and, grabbing hold of the man's arm, dug his heel into the ground and pivot to send the man flying several feet away, face-planting in the soil.

"Wh-What?" Philip asked in outraged shock. A mere boy had taken on his men and single-handedly defeated them?! He refused to let the boy get the best of him. "You little-!"

The words never finished leaving Philip's mouth, nor did the switchblade from his pocket, as he finally noticed something: The boy's eyes were orange. If that wasn't evident enough, the lone orange flame adorning the boy's forehead was enough to tell the hardened criminal that to go against such a thing was suicide.

"He can use flames!" One of his men shouted in shock.

"Not good! Run for it!" The second said and both took off from the corner in the park.

"What? Get back here you cowards!" Philip shouted before glaring at the boy. "Don't think this is the end of it punk!" And he too was gone.

The two siblings stared in awe at the bright flame. They had often heard people talk about such flames, but to actually see one of the famed Deathperation Flames was something all together different. Slowly the flame died out and the boy's harsh orange eyes turned to the soft brown that they had seen when he first arrived.

"Honestly," the boy mumbled to himself. "No matter where I go, trouble seems to always find me." He then turned to the pair of siblings and softly smiled. "Are you two okay? You're not hurt anywhere, are you?"

"Ah…no, we're okay," Francesco said, managing to find his voice.

"That was amazing," Bianca said softly. "The way you were fighting, it was like you were praying. Are you a saint?"

The boy looked mildly surprised at Bianca's question before he chuckled softly. "No," he said with a smile. "I'm just a lone passerby who noticed that you two needed some help. By the way, what are you two doing out here without an adult?"

Both siblings flinched slightly; how could they tell this stranger that they came out here to meet someone who promised to return a family heirloom? Their parents and Gion had specified several times not to reveal their family name to anyone that wasn't an ally.

Still, the boy seemed nice enough and he didn't look like the type to be associated with the Mafia, so maybe…

"We came here to meet a friend," Francesco said carefully. "He was going to return something to us and he asked to meet us here." Francesco didn't really know if it was a guy who was going to return the ring, but it felt right in saying that.

For a moment the boy didn't look like he believed the statement, but appeared to accept it none the less. "That's good that to see that you have a good friend, I hope he joins you soon. Is this your doll?" He asked Bianca, picking up the fallen toy and gently brushing off any dirt before handing it to the small girl. "She's very pretty, like you."

Bianca's face turned a soft pink as she took her beloved doll and held it close to her chest. "Th-Thank you," was all she managed to get out before burying her face in the doll's hair.

Francesco knew he'd have to tease Bianca about that later.

"YOUNG MASTER! YOUNG MISTRESS!" The two siblings jumped at the name and quickly got on their feet to greet the owner of the voice they knew too well.

A middle aged man ran up to them, his squared face slightly red from the running he had just done. He was dressed in a grey business suit and his hair was a graying brown slicked back out of the way. His hands were calloused, evidence that he used guns on a regular basis, and the way he moved showed that he was to be respected by those lower than him, but seemed to care for his subordinates nonetheless.

"Young Master Francesco, Young Mistress Bianca, thank goodness I found you," the man said as he reached the trio. "Do you realize how worried your mother is right now? She's threatening to skin the first five people she catches alive if you aren't home in an hour's time."

The siblings again cringed. Even if their mother didn't punish them—finding firsthand experience the best of teachers at times—she wasn't keen on being so kind to anyone who succeeded in irritating her.

"We're sorry, Gion," Bianca said softly. "We just wanted to go the park." She felt bad about lying, but didn't want her late papa's right-hand man to report to their mother—and acting head—on them.

The man, Gion, only sighed. "Well next time, please tell someone or leave a note," he suggested exasperated. Kids these days; think they can do whatever they want.

His dark eyes then happened to fall on the doll in Bianca's arms and his face fell into one of shock. The pair instantly noticed the change in the man and stared curiously.

"What's wrong, Gion?" Francesco asked puzzled.

"That…That…"was all the man could force out.

Worried that her beloved treasure had suffered more damage than she thought, Bianca turned it around to stare at the front; her eyes widened at what she saw.

"Fratello…" her soft voice beckoned her brother over and, as his eyes settled onto the doll's neck, Francesco's eyes also followed suit.

Hanging from a pink ribbon around the doll's thin neck, was a ring of gold. It cradled a large onyx in its band; the image of a dove with a sprig of an olive in its beak carved into the black surface, and gave off the impression that it was old and had exchanged many hands many times. Both brother and sister recognized it as the only ring that, besides his marriage ring, to ever adorn their father's hand.

It was the Corvello Family ring.

Shock soon replaced confusion; how did the ring end up there? It clearly wasn't on the doll when the pair had left some time ago and the only person to have touched the doll besides Bianca was…

Realization struck and the pair whirled around to were the stranger had stood…only to find him gone. The briefcase was also missing from against the stump that it had been placed, and a small white card sat innocently on said stump. The pair walked over, with Gion following in curious pursuit—wondering just what the children had been doing at the park that had them leaving without telling anyone—and Francesco slowly picked up the card to read the flowing script on the paper.

_Thanks for the donation _was all it said and the pair was even more confused. Wasn't it supposed to be a payment for the ring's return? Then why was it being called a donation?

"Hey Gion," Francesco called over to the man. "Is there a saint that uses Sky Flames around here?"

Gion looked as if he had choked on his saliva. "Why do you ask that, young master?"

"Because," Francesco said, "we just met someone who has such flames and when he fought…it was if he was praying."

"He was a saint, Fratello!" Bianca exclaimed happily. "I knew he was a saint!"

"Do you mean Kaitō Seikū, young master?" Gion asked curiously. Perhaps he should have a talk with the servants to keep any knowledge of any future unaddressed notes to themselves and away from the young pair. He would inform their mother on this, perhaps when she wasn't in a mood; Gion wished to live long enough to see the young master take on his father's role thank you very much.

"Kaitō…Seikū?" Bianca asked, the words sounding foreign on her tongue.

"I never met him personally myself," Gion began, "but he's suppose to be a thief of some sort from Japan. No one has ever seen him when he strikes, but those who manage to catch a glimpse after claim to see a bright Sky Flame adorning his head, and when he fights, which is rare, he moves in a way that it seems he's praying. In Japan they called him Kaitō Seikū, or Phantom Thief Saint Sky, and apparently he had made his way to Italy or so the rumors go." The man knew that the rumors were unneeded now, as the Corvello Ring being returned was proof enough of the thief's existence.

"Why did he help us then?" Francesco asked, puzzled. "If he's a thief, why did he return something that was stolen?"

Gion could only shrug. "If you ever have the honor of meeting Kaitō Seikū, you'll have to ask him yourself. Now, come along you two, we best not keep your mother waiting any longer than she already has. I just hope she hasn't gone through with her promise."

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"I'm home, Father." The small church was empty, as those who had come to pray had long since left, say for a middle age man dressed in a priest's robe that sat on the front bench, the setting sun giving what light it could to whatever the man was staring at in his hands. At the voice, the head of dark hair looked up over his shoulder to see his charge walking down the aisle, a briefcase hanging at his side.

"Welcome home, Tsuna my boy," Father Thomas greeted the youth. "I trust it went well?"

"Say for a few pests, it went well," Tsuna said, opening the case slightly to pull a few wads of bills from it before snapping it shut and handing the rest over to the priest. "For the Church."

"Ah, Tsuna, you are such a good boy, the Lord smile upon you," Father Thomas said with a smile as he took the leather case. "I know you just came back, but there's another mission for you."

Tsuna merely smiled. "So soon? And here I thought they'd stop coming." He momentarily ducked into a room hidden by a pillar, and quickly discarded his current attire for his work clothes. Now, he was wearing a black suit with a black cape that reached the floor, the only decoration was the silver chain that connected the two front sides of the cape to each other. A bright orange flame adorned his forehead and his usual soft brown eyes were hard orange in color.

"Here's the address and a picture of the item," Father Thomas said, completely unaffected by the change in the youth's appearance. "Be careful; I've heard the security is pretty tight there."

Tsuna took the papers and slipped them into a pocket inside the suit. "All the more fun it will be."

"I'll be back before dawn," and with a swish of the cape, the youth was gone, a lone window open to be evidence of his depature.

Father Thomas only smiled. "Good luck…Kaitō Seikū."

_He was a retriever with a purpose, a purpose to right the wrongs of individuals, so that people could continue to smile._

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**And…Done! What do you guys think? I know it is a rather short chapter—most of my first chapters seem to run with the theme of being less than Four Thousand words—but I felt that it was good to stop here.**

**Please review and give me any ideas for future items for Tsuna, ahem, Kaitō Seikū to retrieve, including any back story of the item. Don't worry, the others will come along shortly.**

**Till next time, Ciao.**

**PS: I still working on my other stories so don't get after me for that. And any flames will be used to roast delicious Marshmellows.**


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